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Pull my mask so tight, |
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Til it pinches my skin. |
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Nerves strung so high. |
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I am a mandolin. |
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Jenny calls from Montana. |
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She's only passing through. |
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Probably never see her again in this life, I guess. |
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Not sure what I'm gonna do. |
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Plug a night light in. |
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Leave the porch light on. |
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Because the small dark corners have designs on me. |
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Live like an outlaw. |
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Clutching gold coins in his claw. |
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Room full of ambitious young policemen. |
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Everybody trying to make his mark. |
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I was a red dot blinking on a screen up overhead, |
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And then the room went dark. |
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Dream of maybe waking up someday, |
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And wanting you less than I do. |
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This is a dream though, |
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It's never gonna come true. |
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Plug a night light in. |
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Leave the porch light on. |
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Because the small dark corners are establishing a colony. |
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Live like an outlaw. |
|
Clutching gold coins in his claw. |
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Can't ever set aside the sweetness, |
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Of the days before the crews put up the border. |
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Fields full of wet rain. |
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Cling tight to their memory forever. |
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Think about Montana when I close my eyes, |
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Possibly Jenny's headed east. |
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Count a couple of stray hopes outloud, |
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May their numbers one day be increased. |
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Plug a night light in. |
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Leave the porch light on. |
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Because the small dark corners breathe like heavy animals. |
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Live like an outlaw. |
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Clutching gold coins in his claw. |
